The Romance of Elaine

by Arthur B. Reeve

  CHAPTER XV

  THE FLASH

  Alone in the doorway before his rude shack on the shore of thepromontory sat an old fisherman, gazing out fixedly at the harbor asthough deeply concerned over the weather, which, as usual, wasunseasonable.

  Suddenly he started and would have disappeared into his hut but for thefact that, although he could not himself be seen, he had already seenthe intruder.

  It was a trooper from Fort Dale. He galloped up and, as though obeyingto the letter his instructions, deliberately dropped an envelope at thefeet of the fisherman. Then, without a word, he galloped away again.

  The fisherman picked up the envelope and opened it quickly. Inside wasa photograph and a note. He read:

  FORT DALE PROFESSOR ARNOLD,

  J. Smith, clerk in the War Department, has disappeared. We are not sure, but fear that he has a copy of the new Sandy Hook Defense Plans. It is believed he is headed your way. He walks with a slight limp. Look out for him.

  LIEUTENANT WOODWARD.

  For a long time the fisherman appeared to study the face on thephotograph until he had it indelibly implanted in his memory, as if bysome system such as that of the immortal Bertillon and his clever"portrait parle," or spoken picture, for scientific identification andapprehension. It was not a pleasant face and there were features thatwere not easily forgotten.

  Finally he turned and entered his hut. Hastily he took off his stainedreefer. From a wooden chest he drew another outfit of clothes. Thetransformation was complete. When he issued forth from his hut again,it was no longer the aged disciple of Izaac Walton. He was now a trimchauffeur, bearded and goggled.

  . . . . . . .

  In the library of his bungalow, Del Mar was pacing up and down, now andthen scowling to himself, as though there flashed over his mind strayrecollections of how some of his most cherished plans were miscarrying.

  Still, on the whole, he had nothing to complain of. For, a moment laterthe valet entered with a telegram for which he had evidently beenwaiting. Del Mar seized it eagerly and tore open the yellow envelope.On the blank was printed in the usual way the following non-committalmessage:

  WASHINGTON, D. C., August 12, 1915.

  MR. DEL MAR,

  What you request is coming. Answer to sign of the ring.--SMITH.

  "Good," muttered Del Mar as he finished reading. "Strange, what alittle gold will do--when you know how to dispose of it."

  He smiled cynically to himself at the sentiment.

  . . . . . . .

  At the little railroad station, they were quite proud of the fact thatat least two of the four hacks had been replaced already by taxicabs.

  It was, then, with some surprise and not a little open jealousy thatthey saw a new taxicab drive up and take its stand by the platform.

  If the chauffeur, transformed from the lonely fisherman, had expected acordial reception, he might better have stayed before his hut, for theglances the other drivers gave him were as black and lowering as theclouds he had been looking at.

  The new chauffeur got off his seat. Instead of trying to brazen it out,he walked over to the others who were standing in a group waiting forthe approaching train whose whistle had already sounded.

  "I'm not going to locate here permanently," he said, pulling out a rollof bills as he spoke. "Leave any fare I claim to me," he added, passinga bill of a good denomination to each of the four jehus.

  They looked at him curiously. But what business of theirs was it? Themoney felt good.

  "All right, bo," they agreed.

  Thundering down the platform came the afternoon train, a great event inthe town life.

  As the baggage was being tossed off, the passengers alighted and thefive hackmen swarmed at them.

  "Keb, sir, kerridge. Taxi, lady!"

  From the Pullman alighted a widow, in deep mourning. As she got off andmoved down the platform, it was apparent that she walked with apronounced limp.

  At the end of the platform, the chauffeurs were still calling, whilethe newcomer looked over the crowd hastily. Suddenly he caught sight ofthe face of the widow. He stepped forward, as she approached. Theothers held back as they had agreed and paid no attention. It was likeforcing a card.

  He held the door open and she entered the cab, unsuspecting. "Mr. DelMar's," she directed, simply.

  As the new taxicab driver cranked his engine and climbed into the seat,he was careful to let no action of his, however small, betray theintense satisfaction he felt at the working of his scheme.

  He pulled away from the station. On through the pretty country roadsthe chauffeur drove the heavily veiled widow until at last they came toDel Mar's bungalow.

  At the gate he stopped and ran around to open the door to assist hisfare to alight.

  "Wait for me," she said, without paying him yet. "I shall not be longand I want to be driven back to the station to catch the fourtwenty-nine to New York."

  As she limped up the gravel walk, he watched her closely. She went tothe door and rang the bell, and the valet admitted her.

  Del Mar was still sitting, thinking, in the library.

  "Mr. Del Mar?" she inquired.

  The voice was not exactly soft, and Del Mar eyed her suspiciously. Wasthis the person he expected, or a "plant?"

  "Yes," he answered, guardedly, "I am Mr. Del Mar. And you?"

  The widow, too, evidently wished to make no mistake. As she spoke, sheraised her hand. By that simple action she displayed a curious andconspicuous seal ring on her finger. It was the sign of the ring forwhich Del Mar had been waiting.

  He extended his own left hand. On the ring finger was another ring, butnot similar. As he did so, the widow took the ring from her own fingerand placed it on the little finger of Del Mar.

  "Good!" he exclaimed.

  Every action of the sign of the ring had been carried out.

  The woman raised her thick veil, disclosing the face of--a man!

  It was the same face, also, that had appeared in the photograph sent tothe old fisherman by Woodward.

  Awkwardly, the man searched in the front of his shirtwaist and drewforth a paper which Del Mar almost seized in his eagerness. It was apen and ink copy of a Government map, showing a huge spit of sand inthe sea before a harbor, Sandy Hook and New York. On it were indicatedall the defenses, the positions of guns, everything.

  Together, Del Mar and Smith bent over it, while the renegade clerkexplained each mark on the traitorous map. They were too occupied tosee a face flattened against the pane of a window near-by.

  The chauffeur had no intention of remaining inactive outside while heknew that something that interested him was transpiring inside. He hadcrept up by the side of the house to the window. But he could seelittle and hear nothing.

  A moment he strained every sense. It was no use. He must devise someother way. How could he get into that room? Slowly he returned to hiscar, thinking it over. There he stood for a moment revolving in hismind what to do. He looked up the road. An idea came to him. There hesaw a little runabout approaching rapidly.

  Quickly he went around to the front of his car and lifted up the hood.Then he bent over and pretended to be tinkering with his engine.

  As the car was about to pass he deliberately stepped back, apparentlynot seeing the runabout, and was struck and knocked down.

  The runabout stopped, the emergency brakes biting hard.

  . . . . . . .

  Elaine had asked me to go shopping in the village with her thatafternoon. While I waited for her in her little car, she came down atlast, carrying a little handbag. We drove off a moment later.

  It was a delightful ride, not too warm, but sunny. Without realizingit, we found ourselves on the road that led past Del Mar's.

  As we approached, I saw that there was a taxicab standing in front ofthe gate. The hood was lifted and the drive
r was apparently tinkeringwith his engine.

  "Let's not stop," said Elaine, who had by this time a peculiar aversionto the man.

  As we passed the driver, apparently not seeing us, stepped out and,before we could turn out, we had knocked him down. We stopped and ranback.

  There he lay on the road, seemingly unconscious. We lifted him up and Ilooked toward Del Mar's house.

  "Help!" I shouted at the top of my voice.

  The valet came to the door.

  Hearing me, the valet ran out down the walk. "All right," he cried."I'll be there in a minute."

  With his help I picked up the taxicab chauffeur and we carried him intothe house.

  Del Mar was talking with a person who looked like a widow, when theyheard our approach up the walk carrying the injured man.

  So engrossed had they been in discerning what the stolen documentcontained that, as we finally entered, the widow had only time to dropher veil and conceal her identity as the renegade Smith. Del Mar stillheld the plan in his hand.

  The valet and I entered with Elaine and we placed the chauffeur on acouch near Del Mar's desk. I remember that there was this strange womanall in black, heavily veiled, in the room at the time.

  "I think we ought to telephone for a doctor," said Elaine placing herhand-bag on the desk and excitedly telling Del Mar how we hadaccidentally knocked the man down.

  "Call up my doctor, Henry," said Del Mar, hastily thrusting the planinto a book lying on the desk.

  We gathered about the man, trying to revive him.

  "Have you a little stimulant?" I asked, turning from him.

  Del Mar moved toward a cellarette built into the wall. We were allwatching him, our backs to the chauffeur, when suddenly he must haveregained consciousness very much. Like a flash his hand shot out. Heseized the plan from between the leaves of the book. He had not time toget away with it himself. Perhaps he might be searched. He openedElaine's bag, and thrust it in.

  The valet by this time had finished telephoning and spoke to Del Mar.

  "The doctor will be here shortly, Miss Dodge," said Del Mar. "You neednot wait, if you don't care to. I'll take care of him."

  "Oh, thank you--ever so much," she murmured. "Of course it wasn't ourfault, but I feel sorry for the poor fellow. Tell the doctor to send methe bill."

  She and Del Mar shook hands. I thought he held her hand perhaps alittle longer and a little tighter than usual. At any rate Elaineseemed to think so.

  "Why, what a curious ring, Mr. Del Mar," she said, finally releasingher own hand from his grasp.

  Then she looked quickly at the woman, half joking, as if the ring hadsomething to do with the strange woman. She looked back at the ring.Del Mar smiled, shook his head and laughed easily.

  Then Elaine picked up her bag and we went out. A moment later weclimbed back into the car and were off again.

  . . . . . . .

  Having left us at the door, Del Mar hurried back to the library. Hewent straight to the desk and picked up the book, eager now to makesure of the safety of the plan.

  It was gone!

  "Did you, Smith--" he began hastily, then checked himself, knowing thatthe clerk had not taken the plan.

  Del Mar walked over to the couch and stood a moment looking at thechauffeur. "I wonder who he is," he said to himself. "I don't recallever seeing him at the station or in the village."

  He leaned over closer. "The deuce!" he exclaimed, "that's a fake beardthe fellow has on."

  Del Mar made a lunge for it. As he did so, the chauffeur leaped to hisfeet and drew a gun. "Hands up!" he shouted. "And the first man thatmoves is a dead one!"

  Before the secret agent knew it, both he and Smith were covered. Thechauffeur took a step toward Smith and unceremoniously jerked off thewidow's weeds, as well as the wig.

  At that very moment one of Del Mar's men came up to the secret panelthat opened from the underground passageway into his library. He wasabout to open it when he heard a sound on the other side that startledhim. He listened a moment, then slid it just a short distance andlooked in.

  There he saw a chauffeur holding up Del Mar and Smith. Having pulledthe disguise from Smith, he went next around Del Mar and took his gunfrom his pocket, then passed his hands over the folds of Smith's dress,but found no weapon. He stepped back away from them.

  At that point the man quietly slid the panel all the way open andsilently stepped into the room, behind the chauffeur. Cautiously hebegan sneaking up on him.

  As he did so, Del Mar and Smith watched, fascinated. Somehow theirfaces must have betrayed that something was wrong. For, as the newcomerleaped at him, the chauffeur turned suddenly and fired. The shotwounded the man.

  It was a signal for a free-for-all fight. Del Mar and Smith leaped atthe intruder. Over and over they rolled, breaking furniture,overturning and smashing bric-a-brac.

  Del Mar's revolver was knocked out of the chauffeur's hand. With a blowof a chair, the chauffeur laid out Smith, entangled in his unfamiliargarments, shook himself loose from the two others, and made a rush atthe door.

  Del Mar paused only long enough to pick up the revolver from the floor.Instantly he fired at the retreating form. But the chauffeur had passedout and banged shut the door. Down the walk he sped and out to thegate, into his car, the engine of which he had left running.

  Hard after him came Del Mar and the rest, joined now by Henry, thevalet. One shot was left in the chauffeur's revolver and he blazed awayas he leaped into the car.

  "He's got me," groaned Smith as he stumbled and fell forward.

  On kept Del Mar and the others. They caught up with the car just as itwas starting. But the chauffeur knocked the gun from Del Mar's handbefore he could get a good aim and fire, at the same time bowling overthe man who had come through the panel.

  Off the car went, now rapidly gaining speed. Del Mar had just time toswing on the rear of it.

  Around the rapidly-driven car, he climbed, hanging on for dear life,over the mud-guard and toward the running-board. On sped the car,swaying crazily back and forth, Del Mar crouched on the running-boardand working his way slowly and perilously to the front seat.

  The chauffeur felt the weight of some one on that side. Just as heturned to see what it was, Del Mar leaped at him. Still holding thewheel, the chauffeur fought him off with his free hand, Del Mar holdingon to some spare tires with one hand, also. Handicapped by having thesteering-wheel to manage, nevertheless the chauffeur seemed quite wellable to give a good account of himself.

  . . . . . . .

  Somehow, Elaine and I must have been hoodooed that day.

  We had not been gone five minutes from Del Mar's after the accident tothe chauffeur, when we heard a mysterious knock in the engine.

  "More engine trouble," I sighed. "Pull up along the road and I'll seeif I can fix it."

  We stopped and both got out. There was no fake about this trouble orabout the dirt and grease I acquired on my hands and face, tinkeringwith that motor. For, regardless of my immaculate flannels, I had toset to work. A huge spot of grease spattered on me. Elaine laughedoutright.

  "Here, let me powder your nose, Walter," she cried undismayed at ourtrouble, gayly opening her bag. "Well--of all things--what's this, andwhere did it come from?"

  I turned from the engine and looked. She was holding some kind of planor document in her hand. In blank surprise she examined it. It lookedlike a fort or a series of forts. But I was sure at a glance that itwas not Fort Dale.

  "What do you think it is, Walter?" she asked, handing it to me.

  I took it and examined it carefully. Incredible as it seemed, I figuredout quickly that it must be nothing short of a plan of the new defensesat Sandy Hook.

  "I don't know what it all means," I said. "But I do know that we won'tget any dinner till I get this engine running again."

  I fell to work again, eager to get away with our dangerous prize,Elaine now and then advis
ing me. Finally I turned the engine over. Fora wonder it ran smoothly. "Well, that's all right, at last," I sighed,wiping the grease off my hands on a piece of waste.

  "What's the matter now?" exclaimed Elaine, turning quickly and lookingup the road along which we had just come.

  There, lurching along at full speed was a car. Two men were actuallyfighting on the front of it regardless of speed and safety. As itneared us, I saw it was the taxicab that had been standing before DelMar's. I looked closer at it. To my utter amazement, who should bedriving it but the very chauffeur whom we had left at Del Mar's only afew minutes before, apparently unconscious. He could not have been hurtvery badly, for he was not only able to drive but was fighting off aman clinging on the running-board.

  On rushed the car, directly at us. Just as it passed us, the chauffeurseemed to summon all his strength. He struck a powerful blow at theman, recoiled and straightened out his car just in time. The man fell,literally at our feet.

  It was Del Mar himself!

  On sped the taxicab. Bruised though he must have been by the fall, DelMar nevertheless raised himself by the elbow and fired every chamber ofhis revolver as fast as he could pump the bullets.

  I must say that I admired the man's pluck. Elaine and I hurried over tohim. I still had in my hand the queer paper which she had found sostrangely in her hand-bag.

  "Why, what's all this about?" I asked eagerly.

  Before I could raise him up, Del Mar had regained his feet.

  "Just a plain crook, who attacked me," he muttered, brushing off hisclothes to cover up the quick recognition of what it was that I washolding in my hand, for he had seen the plan immediately.

  "Can't we drive you back?" asked Elaine, quite forgetting our fears ofDel Mar in the ugly predicament in which he just had been. "We've hadtrouble but I guess we can get you back."

  "Thank you," he said, forcing a smile. "I think anything would be animprovement on my ride here and I'm sure you can do more than youclaim."

  He climbed up and sat on the floor of the roadster, his feet outside,and we drove off. At last we pulled up at Dodge Hall again.

  "Won't you come in?" asked Elaine as we got out.

  "Thank you, I believe I will for a few minutes," consented Del Mar,concealing his real eagerness to follow me. "I'm all shaken up."

  As we entered the living-room, I was thinking about the map. I opened atable drawer, hastily took the plan from my pocket and locked it in thedrawer. Elaine, meanwhile, was standing with Del Mar who was talking,but in reality watching me closely.

  A smile of satisfaction seemed to flit over his face as he saw what Ihad done and now knew where the paper was.

  I turned to him. "How are you now?" I asked.

  "Oh, I'm much better--all right," he answered. Then he looked at hiswatch. "I've a very important appointment. If you'll excuse me, I'llwalk over to my place. Thank you again, Miss Dodge, ever so kindly."

  He bowed low and was gone.

  . . . . . . .

  Down the road past where we had turned, before a pretty little shinglehouse, the taxicab chauffeur stopped. One of the bullets had takeneffect on him and his shoulder was bleeding. But the worst, as heseemed to think it, was that another shot had given him a flat tire.

  He jumped out and looked up the road whence he had come. No one wasfollowing. Still, he was worried. He went around to look at the tire.But he was too weak now from loss of blood. It had been nerve andreserve force that had carried him through. Now that the strain wasoff, he felt the reaction to the full.

  Just then the doctor and his driver, whom the valet had alreadysummoned to Del Mar's, came speeding down the road. The doctor saw thechauffeur fall in a half faint, stopped his car and ran to him. Thechauffeur had kept up as long as he could. He had now sunk down besidehis machine in the road.

  A moment later they picked him up and carried him into the house. Therewas no acting about his hurts now. In the house they laid the man downon a couch and the doctor made a hasty examination.

  "How is he?" asked one of the kind Samaritans.

  "The wound is not dangerous," replied the physician, "but he's lost alot of blood. He cannot be moved for some time yet."

  . . . . . . .

  We talked about nothing else at Dodge Hall after dressing for dinnerbut the strange events over at Del Mar's and what had followed. Themore I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that we would neverbe left over night in peaceful possession of the plan which both Elaineand I decided ought on the following day to be sent to Washington.

  Accordingly I cudgelled my brain for some method of protecting bothourselves and it. The only thing I could think of was a scheme onceadopted by Kennedy in another case. How I longed for him. But I had todo my best alone.

  I had a small quick shutter camera that had belonged to Craig and justas we were about to retire, I brought it into the living-room with apackage I had had sent up from the village.

  "What are you going to do?" asked Elaine curiously.

  I assumed an air of mystery but did not say, for I was not sure butthat even now some one was eavesdropping. It was not late, but thecountry air made us all sleepy and Aunt Josephine, looking at theclock, soon announced that she was going to retire.

  She had no sooner said good-night than Elaine began again to questionme. But I had determined not to tell her what I was doing, for if myimitation of Kennedy failed, I knew that she would laugh at me.

  "Oh, very well," she said finally in pique, "then, if you're going tobe so secret about it, you can sit up alone--there!"

  She flounced off to bed. Sure as I could be at last that I was alone, Iopened the package. There were the tools that I had ordered, a coil ofwire and some dry cells. Then I went to the table, unlocked the drawerand put the plan in my pocket. I had determined that whether the ideaworked or not, no one was to get the plan except by overcoming me.

  Although I was no expert at wiring, I started to make the connectionsunder the table with the drawer, not a very difficult thing to do aslong as it was to be only temporary and for the night. From the table Iran the wires along the edge of the carpet until I came to thebook-case. There, masked by the books, I placed the little quickshutter camera, and at a distance also concealed the flash-light pan.

  Next I aimed the camera carefully and focussed it on a point above thedrawer on the writing-table where any one would be likely to stand ifhe attempted to open it. Then I connected the shutter of the camera anda little spark coil in the flash-pan with the wires, using an apparatusto work the shutter such as I recalled having seen Craig use. Finally Icovered the sparking device with the flash-light powder, gave a lastlook about and snapped off the light.

  Up in my bedroom, I must say I felt like "some" detective and I couldnot help slapping myself on the chest for the ingenuity with which Ihad duplicated Craig.

  Then I lay down on the bed with my clothes on and picked up a book,determined to keep awake to see if anything happened. It was a goodbook, but I was tired and in spite of myself I nodded over it, and thendropped it.

  . . . . . . .

  In his bungalow, now that Smith had gone back again to New York andWashington, Del Mar was preparing to keep the important engagement hehad told us about, another of his nefarious nocturnal expeditions.

  He drew a cap on his head, well over his ears and forehead. His eyesand face he concealed as well as he could with a mask to be put onlater. To his equipment he added a gun. Then with a hasty word or twoto his valet, he went out.

  By back ways so that even in the glare of automobile headlights hewould not be recognized, he made his way to Dodge Hall. As he saw thehouse looming up in the moonlight he put on his mask and approachedcautiously. Gaining the house, he opened a window, noiselessly turningthe catch as deftly as a house-breaker, and climbed into theliving-room.

  A moment he looked around, then tiptoed over to the tabl
e. He looked atit to be sure that it was the right one and the right drawer. Then hebent down to force the drawer open.

  "Pouf!" a blinding flash came and a little metallic click of theshutter, followed by a cloud of smoke.

  As quick as it happened, there went through Del Mar's head, theexplanation. It was a concealed camera. He sprang back, clapping hishands over his face. Out of range for a moment, he stood gazing aboutthe room, trying to locate the thing.

  Suddenly he heard footsteps. He dived through the window that he hadopened, just as some one ran in and switched on the lights.

  . . . . . . .

  Half asleep, I heard a muffled explosion, as if of a flash-light. Istarted up and listened. Surely some one was moving about down-stairs.I pulled my gun from my pocket and ran out of the room. Down the stepsI flung myself, two at a time.

  In the living-room, I switched on the lights in time to see some onedisappear through an open window. I ran to the window and looked out.There was a man, half doubled up, running around the side of the houseand into a clump of bushes, then apparently lost. I shot out of thewindow and called.

  My only answer was an imprecation and return volley that shattered theglass above my head. I ducked hastily and fell flat on the floor, forin the light streaming out, I must have been a good mark.

  I was not the only one who heard the noise. The shots quickly awakenedElaine and she leaped out of bed and put on her kimono. Then shelighted the lights and ran down-stairs.

  The intruder had disappeared by this time and I had got up and waspeering out of the window as she came breathlessly into the living-room.

  "What's the matter, Walter?" she asked.

  "Some one broke into the house after those plans," I replied. "Heescaped, but I got his picture, I think, by this device of Kennedy's.Let's go into a dark room and develop it."

  There was no use trying to follow the man further. To Elaine's inquiryof what I meant, I replied by merely going over to the spot where I hadhidden the camera and disconnecting it.

  We went up-stairs where I had rigged up an impromptu dark room for myamateur photographic work some days before. Elaine watched me closely.At last I found that I had developed something. As I drew the filmthrough the hypo tray and picked it up, I held it to the red light.

  Elaine leaned over and looked at the film with me. There was a pictureof a masked man, his cap down, in a startled attitude, his handsclapped to his face, completely hiding what the mask and cap did nothide.

  "Well, I'll be blowed!" I cried in chagrin at the outcome of what Ithought had been my cleverest coup.

  A little exclamation of astonishment escaped Elaine. I turned to her."What is it?" I asked.

  "The ring!" she cried.

  I looked again more closely. On the little finger of the left hand wasa peculiar ring. Once seen, I think it was not readily forgotten. "Thering!" she repeated excitedly. "Don't you remember--that ring? I saw iton Mr. Del Mar's hand--at his house--this afternoon!"

  I could only stare.

  At last we had a real clue!

  In his bungalow, Del Mar at that moment threw down his hat and tore offhis mask furiously.

  What had he done?

  For a long time he sat there, his chin on his hand, gazing fixedlybefore him, planning to protect himself and revenge.